


Get Well Soon

by Spinofflady



Series: Race to the Edge [9]
Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 22:33:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8942029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spinofflady/pseuds/Spinofflady
Summary: Word reaches Dragon's Edge that a strange sickness has plagued Berk, and the Riders are eager to help. But when the illness is realized to be the Scourge of Odin, the going gets tough. Worse, the usual cure doesn't work, and lives are in danger.





	1. Chapter 1

It was a beautiful fall day on Dragon’s Edge, and everyone was taking advantage of it. They had opened up the dome and were practicing their battle moves, aim and other skills. Heather sat off to the side, as her ankle had not quite healed yet. She was offering them all some friendly advice, but was enjoying being able to call out their mistakes without having to do the maneuver herself.

“Snotlout, if you don’t step your game up Catia is going to chop your head off!” she hollered, smiling mischievously at the annoyed glare her shot her.

“Do it!” Tuffnut shouted. “Chop his head off!”

“No!” Astrid shouted quickly, horrified. “I mean, I don’t care if you do, but don’t.” She did not want to see any more decapitations.

“Are you sure you don’t care?” Snotlout asked, pausing to give her a sleazy glance. “Seems to me like you do.”

Catia grabbed his shirt and brought her blade up to his neck. Snotlout dropped his sword and froze. “I win,” she announced smugly.

“Really, Astrid?” Snotlout grumbled, glaring at her. “You just had to distract me! I could’ve been killed!” He stomped off muttering about how he would impress Astrid and that it wasn’t a fair fight.

“Who’s next?” Catia challenged, eager to claim another victory.

“I nominate Fishface,” Snotlout yelled, obviously hoping to embarrass him in front of Heather. Fishlegs looked horrified.

“I’ve already fought him,” Catia said, knowing how Fishlegs hated battle. There was no need to embarrass him. “Now, Dagur, on the other hand...”

“Oooh, a challenge!” Dagur laughed, sounding more deranged than ever, grabbing a sword and running into the ring. “I like a good challenge!”

Dagur may have given up his evil ways, but his love for a good fight and competition would likely never leave. He and Heather both had quick tempers, and were easily lost over the littlest thing regarding each other, but were just as easily forgotten within a matter of hours.

“Ready to lose?” Catia asked him smartly, her eyes dancing with excitement.

“Only if you’re ready to eat your words.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Tuffnut began in his announcer voice, as he climbed up on Belch’s head so he could overlook the fight. “We now will witness the fight of the century, between the great Dagur the Deadly and Catia the Catastrophe! Please be warned, this could get ugly!” He paused to call his chicken over. “You shouldn’t watch this, chicken.” Chicken clucked and cocked her head. “Let the fight begin!”

“Wait!”

Everyone stopped, turning to look at Hiccup who was walking onto the scene with a slip of paper in his hand and a Terrible Terror crawling around on his shoulders. “I just got news from Berk.”

“Is it another attack?” Tuffnut asked urgently, dropping his ridiculous voice. “Is it Dagur?”

“I’m standing right here,” Dagur said flatly, almost rolling his eyes. “How could I have attacked Berk?”

“Oh, yeah. Everyone, do not worry.” His announcer voice was back. “It is not an attack from Dagur.”

Hiccup ignored him and went on. “It’s not an attack from anyone. Apparently there’s a sickness going around, and they want our help.”

“There is a sickness on Berk!” Tuffnut proclaimed loudly. “We must help!”

“What kind of sickness?” Catia asked, closing the blades on her arm guards.

“They aren’t sure,” Hiccup replied, skimming over the note again.

“It is an unknown sickness!” Tuffnut hollered. “But it is deadly! Deadly like a Deadly Nadder, or Dagur the Deadly or death or Deathcrasher or crashing or crushing or Skullcrusher or skulls or skills-”

“That’s good Tuffnut,” Hiccup said, trying to stop the nonsense.

“Or mills or milk or milking yaks or muddy yaks or mud fights-”

“You can stop now, Tuff.”

“Or fighting or biting or writing or running or sunning or sitting or fitting-”

“Just let him finish,” Astrid sighed, “He’ll run out of words eventually.”

“Or fishing or dishing or dicing or miceing or mining or shining or shrinking or drinking or dunking or… what rhymes with dunking?”

“Nothing,” Hiccup said, even though he had several words in mind. “Anyway, my dad wants our help. Who is staying to guard Dragon’s Edge?”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere,” Heather sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Unless Catia will reconsider-”

“No.” Catia didn’t even bother letting her finish.

“Well,” Snotlout started, draping his arm around Heather’s shoulders. “I will sacrifice and stay with you.”

Heather rolled her eyes and twisted his arm around backward. Hollowing in pain, Snotlout wrenched out of her grasp. “On second thought, I’ll go.”

“I should probably stay, “Dagur said, “I doubt I’ll be a welcome sight.”

“Agreed,” Hiccup said with a sigh. “We’ll have to work on that.”

“I’m not exactly your dad’s favorite person,” Catia put in sheepishly. “I’d rather stay.”

“Believe it or not, he actually asked for you to come. Says you might be able to help since the majority of our healers are sick.”

Catia held her hand out for the note, surprised by what she read. “Well, then. I should probably bring a few things.” She left muttering something in disbelief. It was likely in Greek, which she often lapsed into when she was surprised or angry. Or swearing. She only swore in Greek.

Everyone but Dagur and Heather decided to go, and soon they were headed back to Berk, though no one was excited about the long flight, especially since Ruffnut and Tuffnut had decided that they would sing the entire way.

Everyone was ready to kill the twins by the time the made it inside the archipelago, but as Berkian waters came into view, the singing stopped. Realizing they had lost their voices, Ruffnut and Tuffnut crossed their arms and frowned for the rest of the trip.

. . .

The Dragon Riders landed on Berk, surprised by how few people could be seen. The markets were abandoned, the streets were empty, and there was hardly a sound from anywhere.

“This is Berk?” Catia asked, glancing around skeptically.

“Not the normal Berk,” Astrid replied, looking almost as confused. “This is very rare.”

“Where is everyone?” Hiccup asked, scanning the area.

“Inside,” someone said behind them. Stoick walked up, Skullcrusher behind him. “We couldn’t identify the sickness, so I ordered everyone to stay in their homes. Is Catia with you?”

“Yes,” Catia answered, stepping forward. “Where did the sickness start?”

Obviously liking the fact that Catia was ready to get down to business, Stoick motioned for the group to follow. “We aren’t completely sure. It hit a few families at first, but the closest I could pinpoint it too would be…Magnus’ father and the Larson kid.”

“Gustav?” Hiccup offered.

“Ah yes, the troublemaker.”

“Which Magnus are we talking about?” Hiccup went on. “Bald Magnus or the girl Gobber named Magnus?”

“The girl. I believe she goes by Maggie. She’s sick now, too. Her whole family is.”

“What are the symptoms?” Catia asked, clearly trying to keep the conversation on a serious topic.

“Strange ones I must say,” Stoick answered, “It starts out like Eel Pox—a fever and coughing. Gothi prepared the cure for that, but it didn’t work at all. By then, those who were ill were coughing up blood and could hardly stand. I don’t know what it is. Snotlout, Fishlegs your parents are sick as well.”

Without hesitation, both ran home to their families.

Stoick halted in front of a hut, opened the door and motioned for the remaining riders to enter. Ruffnut and Tuffnut refused, claiming they didn’t want to get sick. Astrid and Hiccup rolled their eyes and followed after Catia.

The room was dark, as there was no fire burning, and the only sound was muffled coughing coming from another room. Catia waited for direction from the chief, but Stoick never had the chance.

“Hi Astwid,” a young feminine voice said from the doorway of a nearby room. Astrid glanced over, finding Maggie peaking around the corner. Maggie loved Astrid. She had offered to watch the little girl on one occasion, and Maggie wanted everything to do with Astrid since then.

“Hi Maggie,” Astrid smiled, noticing quickly that Maggie was not herself. She was missing her rosy cheeks and dancing eyes. Her chocolate brown curls were lacking their natural shine. No matter what Gobber had said, she had turned into an adorable child, though now she looked quite pitiful.

“Maggie, get back in bed,” her mother appeared behind her, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and stifling a cough. “Oh, hello Stoick.”

“Lindi, I brought a healer,” Stoick replied. “She can help.”

Lindi nodded, coughing harder and leaning on the wall for support. She pitched forward and caught herself on a chair, lowering herself into it. Astrid picked up Maggie and walked her back to her room, Catia and Hiccup following behind them closely.

Catia set her satchel bag down on the table as Astrid put Maggie back into her bed, covering her up with a pink blanket.

“Hello Maggie,” Catia smiled, sitting down on the bed across from the little girl. “My name is Catia.’

“Hi Tatia,” Maggie replied, without the slightest bit of enthusiasm. She was clearly exhausted.

Catia laughed. “It’s Catia, but I like Tatia too. It’s pretty, don’t you think?”

Maggie finally smiled, and nodded, but started to cough again. “I don’t feel good,” she moaned sadly.

“I know,” Catia nodded comfortingly. “But I think I might now how to make you feel better. I will need your help, though. Do you think you can do that?”

Maggie nodded again, smiling proudly.

“Okay, first we’re going to play a game.” Catia held up both index fingers, placing her right one on Maggie’s nose. “I want you to see if you can look this finger without moving your head at all.” Catia moved her left index finger to the left of Maggie’s face. “Can you see it?”

“Yes.”

Catia continued moving her finger around, noting how Maggie could not stare her finger without her bloodshot eyes flickering and jumping around. She pulled out a small object from her bag, no bigger than a pencil and held it up. “Now stick your tongue out,” Catia told her, smiling.

Maggie giggled and obeyed.

Catia pressed a tiny button on the end of the object, and a drop of blue juice squeezed out. “What does it taste like?” she asked.

“Bwuebewwies,” she said, licking her chapped lips. “That was yummy.”

“Good!” Now stick your tongue out again.”

Maggie did so, showing off her blue tongue with a hint of black around the edges. “Very nice. Now, close your eyes, and hold out your hands flat. I’m going to touch them, and you tell me if I’m touching them on the top or bottom.”

She tapped the tops of Maggie’s hands.

“Top.”

She tapped the bottom side.

“Bottom.”

She gently brushed the side of her fingers on the top of Maggie’s hands.

“Did you do it yet?”

“Yep.”

“I didn’t feel it.”

“Take a guess then.”

“Top?”

“Good job!” Catia praised. “You can open your eyes now. I need to go check on your daddy, so you get some sleep, okay?”

“Otay. Bye, Tatia.”

Catia smiled at the little girl, but as she turned around, her smile faded and she grimly walked out of the room.

Catia did a similar examination of Lindi and her husband, her grim expression never leaving. She instructed the family to rest and asked to see Gustav. Astrid didn’t want to go anywhere near Gustav, so she left to check in with her parents. Stoick led the way the way, and introduced Catia to Mrs. Larson. She smiled her thanks and led Catia and Hiccup to Gustav’s room.

Hiccup had never seen Gustav so still. Or quiet, for that matter. His cheeks were flushed pink, his eyes were closed, and he appeared to be asleep. Fanghook was curled up in a ball at the foot of his bed, warily eyeing the newcomers.

“How long has he been sick?” Catia asked, looking him over.

“Since last Monday,” Mrs. Larson replied. “But it was strange I must say. I can normally tell when he isn’t feeling good, but one morning he woke up with a fever and it hasn’t broken since. Came out of nowhere.”

“Oh, it came from somewhere,” Catia replied dourly. “Would you wake him up please?”

Gustav’s mother sat down beside him shook him gently, stirring him just enough to rouse him. “Gustav,” she started, “There is a healer here to see you. Wake up.”

Gustav finally opened his eyes and glanced around, offering a halfhearted smile to Hiccup.

Catia sat down beside Gustav, pulling out the little juice filled vial. “Tongue out,” she told him somewhat shortly. She clicked the end and dropped a blue dot on his tongue, watching it until the liquid turned black. She examined his eyes the same was she had done for Maggie and her family, and finally checked how much he could feel.

She thanked Gustav and his mother and left. Giving a discouraged sigh, she walked out of the house shaking her head.

“What is it?” Stoick pressed. “Can you diagnose it?”

Catia nodded. “I know it all too well. This is the early stages, but I would know this anywhere.”

“What is it?” Stoick repeated desperately.

Catia motioned for him to come closer. “The Scourge of Odin,” she whispered hesitantly.


	2. Chapter 2

“The Scourge of Odin?” Stoick choked out, horrified. “How?”

“I don’t know,” Catia replied, shaking her head. “It’s not an airborne disease. Unless you have any Buffalords around, there isn’t a way for it to be transmitted.”

Stoick sighed. “What should we do?”

“Quarantining each family was a very good start,” Catia said, glancing around the empty village. “But the sick need to be cared for, so we need to put them in a place all together.”

“We’ll put them in the Great Hall,” Stoick decided. “There is plenty of room.”

“Good. Everyone who is well must stay away from anyone who is sick. If possible, it would be best to take any young children away from the infected, and quarantine them. Children are especially susceptible to sickness.”

Stoick nodded and began barking out orders, and the remaining villagers put the plan into action. One by one every sick person was transported to the Great Hall. Anyone who knew even the slightest thing about Healing had been gathered together, and Catia was explaining the methods that were to be used.

During a momentary break, Catia plopped down in a chair with a tired sigh. Epidemics were always busy. She’d been caught up in several of them during her time apprenticed to a Healer. She had learned much over those years, but what was most ground into her brain was that a good Healer only stopped when the sick or injured died.

“Catia? Do you have a minute?”

Catia turned and found Astrid approaching her, a grave look on her face. “Sure,” Catia replied. “What’s up?”

“I heard what your diagnosis was,” she said, sitting down in a chair beside her.

“And?”

“And you need a cure, don’t you?”

Catia’s eyes widened as she realized what Astrid was talking about. “Astrid, it’s too dangerous to get a cure the way we did for Hiccup. I’ll figure something else out. But we are not going to risk you bleeding to death.”

Astrid seemed to breathe a sigh of relief and nodded. “That’s good, I guess.” She smiled, and without another word left.

. . .

Even though the infected were quarantined, each day another person fell ill. No amount of feverish work or prevention seemed to ebb the spread. Days slowly passed, and not a single person showed signs of improvement. It wasn’t long before there were more sick than well enough to help.

Astrid had managed to avoid the disease so far, though she was still concerned that she might contract it again. She didn’t know anything about healing, other than simple things her mother had taught her, but because so many were sick, she had been drafted to help care for them.

She paused by her mother, who had just recently fallen ill, and adjusted the wet cloth on her forehead. Gail briefly opened her eyes and smiled up at her daughter weakly. Astrid smiled back, wishing she had more time to spend with her mother, but there were so many others who needed attention.

One of the most difficult jobs was making sure that everyone was fed and given enough water. There were so many people who were packed into the Great Hall; there weren’t even enough cots for everyone, so some were kept in their own homes.

Astrid hated being surrounded by the sick. Not because she was afraid of getting sick herself, no, she hated knowing what it was like. She knew that the harsh barking coughs were as painful as they sounded. She knew how terrifying it was to slowly feel strength leave, to lose feeling, and the misery of the chills and feverish aches. She didn’t want to watch others suffer.

But what truly caused her to dislike the situation was the guilt of knowing she could do something about it. She was the only one who could. Without her blood for the antidote, every person in that room, including her parents, friends and neighbors, would die.

Catia promised that they would find another solution, but in all honesty, they didn’t have time for that. Maggie’s father and Gustav were so sick now that the cure might not work fast enough to save them, even if administered right then.

Constant coughing plagued the Hall, as did the moans and cries of agony. Astrid wished she could step outside and get a breath of fresh air, but she simply had too much work. She had hardly slept in the past days, but she couldn’t complain. Catia hadn’t slept at all.

The door to the Great Hall swung open, and Hiccup rushed in and frantically made his way around the cots toward Catia. The two spoke for a brief moment and then rushed out of the hall. Astrid watched somewhat nervously, knowing that whatever was the matter wasn’t anything small. She sighed and walked through the rows of beds to set her supplies down.

She noticed Maggie curled up on the floor next to her mother’s cot. She must have dragged herself out of her bed to be near her mother. The poor little girl was coughing and shivering violently, trying to wrap her blanket weakly around her shoulders.

Astrid softly approached, and knelt beside her, placing a hand on the cold shuddering girl. Maggie glanced at her and whimpered, hardly able to move. Astrid gently gathered the little girl up off the floor, spreading the blanket over her. She carried Maggie back across the room, rubbing her back to try and ease the coughing.

Her little body was burning with fever, her skin was clammy and pale, and ever breathe she drew in was accompanied by a harsh rattling sound from her chest. A few blood stains spotted her gray blanket, which Maggie had brought up sometime the night before.

Astrid gently laid the little girl back down on her cot, wrapping an extra fur around her tiny frame. She wished she could do something more to ease the suffering, but without a cure, there wasn’t much anyone could do.

. . .

Hiccup paced nervously back and forth, the room so silently that one could hear a needle drop. He glanced over at his father, collapsed in bed. Catia was examining him, skillfully assessing every symptom. Hiccup already knew what sickness his father had contracted, but he refused to believe it until it was confirmed.

“It’s the Scourge,” Catia announced finally, giving a long sigh.

Hiccup swallowed hard. “We need to get him to the Buffalord’s island then.”

Catia shook her head sadly. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple. This version of the Scourge isn’t cured the same way as the one Astrid had. She was infected by someone else. Your father had to have been infected by Buffalord saliva, which carries the disease.”

“But Buffalord saliva helps to cure!”

“Yes, but not by itself. This is what caused the massive plague that wiped out Viking villages all across the archipelago. People didn’t understand that the saliva on its own was not a cure, and drank it thinking that it would keep them from getting sick. That kept the disease going until healers realized it was actually the cause.”

“What’s the cure for this version then?” Hiccup demanded, growing rightfully impatient. He was obviously worried about his father.

Catia stiffened. The amount of blood needed for the cure would easily kill Astrid. She didn’t want to lie, but she certainly couldn’t give Hiccup hope only to snatch it back because of the hazards. “There is no cure,” she replied haltingly, refusing to make eye contact. She had lied before, but never straight to her friend’s face. She had only lied to stay alive.

“None?” Hiccup choked out. He stopped pacing abruptly.

“I’m doing everything I can to find one,” she said desperately. That was true. Every spare moment she had was spent searching for an alternate cure, but to no avail. “I’m sorry Hiccup, but for right now, there’s nothing I can do.”

. . .

Time passed slowly on Berk, and everyone was slowly but surely losing hope. Those helping to care for the sick were slowly growing too tired to work. The herbs used to keep the fevers in check were almost out. Time was running out for those infected.

But one lonely, dark night, time did run out. After hours of painful suffering, Maggie’s father gave one last ragged breathe and died. Catia did everything she could to save him, but nothing was able to help.

Lindi and Maggie were both so sick that it was decided there was really no point in telling them the news just yet. It would only cause them to worsen, if they were well enough to even understand.

Worry turned to Gustav, who was dangerously close to death. Catia instructed that someone be with him at all times, periodically checking to make sure he was still conscious and breathing.

As much as the death affected everyone, it majorly touched Astrid. She could hardly bare to think that she was responsible for someone’s death. Knowing there was something she could have done caused her to tear herself apart with accusations. As much as Gustav could drive her up the wall, she certainly didn’t want him to die. She didn’t want anyone else to die. Something had to be done.

She walked home that afternoon, spotting Hiccup standing by himself on the docks overlooking the ocean. Noticing how destitute he appeared, Astrid slowly approached and stood beside him. The situation seemed rather familiar.

“It’s a mess,” she began, starting the conversation the same way she had three years before.

Hiccup glanced over at her, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he recalled the past event. His eyes were tired; he had been working just as hard to care for the sick. His shoulders were slumped, his demeanor sad.

“Are you okay?” she asked him, scooting closer and briefly rubbing his back.

He shrugged, fiddling with a piece of paper in his hands. “My…dad wrote this,” he mumbled, passing it too her.

She skimmed over it, finding it to be a letter from Stoick to the council, stating that Hiccup was to be chief when he died. It went on to address several other things, but Astrid knew that only the plans regarding Hiccup were the reason for his manner.

“Hiccup…” she whispered, folding the letter back into its original form. “I don’t know what to say.”

“He said ‘when,’” Hiccup said sadly. “He didn’t say ‘if’ he died. He said ‘when.’”

“Hiccup, Catia is working on a cure. Your dad will be fine. You should be proud that he would want to leave you in charge.”

Hiccup swallowed hard. “I’m not…I’m not ready. I couldn’t be chief. If he doesn’t make it…” He hung his head.

“He will. I promise. If Catia is smart, she’ll know what to do when the opportunity comes. I know what I have to do, and so will you.” She gently took one of his hands in hers, earning a puzzled look from him. “You’re a good leader, Hiccup.” She squeezed his hand and placed a quick kiss on his cheek. Without another word, she left and ran home.

. . .

Hiccup walked into the Great Hall, pausing to straighten a few blankets and furs of the sick. He glanced over at Catia, who was examining Gustav. She looked weary as well.

Everyone was exhausted. At least he had gotten a relatively good amount of sleep the night before. Astrid, Catia and Fishlegs had all stayed at the Great Hall overnight, caring for the sick. Catia and Fishlegs were still working steadily, though it was clear they were worn out.

He tried to find Astrid in the crowded Hall, but she seemed to have vanished. Slowly working his way across the room, he stopped by Catia. “Get any sleep last night?” he asked, refilling the bucket of water beside her.

“Perhaps an hour,” she replied, yawning sleepily. “But I don’t mind.”

“Have you seen Astrid?” he went on, scanning the Hall for her again.

“Not since before lunch,” Catia answered, setting another log on the fire that heated the Hall. “Why?”

“I was just a little worried, that’s all. When I talked to her last, she seemed…sad I guess. I was wondering where she was.”

“Sad?” Catia repeated, looking at him curiously. “Her parents aren’t doing very well. Do you think that could be it?”

“I don’t know. She didn’t mention them at all.”

“I think you might be misinterpreting something. She didn’t seem at all ‘sad’ to me.”

“Maybe sad isn’t the word I’m looking for,” he sighed. “She just seemed…different. She was sure that everyone would get better, and for lack of a better word, she was a little clingy.”

“Clingy?” Catia seemed strangely worried the more he went on, as if she knew something he didn’t.

“Yeah. I mean, we touch each other all the time, but this time it was just different. Almost like she didn’t want to leave.”

“Expound upon that please.”

Wondering why Catia was so interested, he continued. “She just had this look in her eyes, I don’t know what it was, but it seemed sad, lonely, scared maybe. She said something about knowing what she had to do-”

“She said what?!” Catia exclaimed, fear suddenly jumping into her eyes.

“She said she knew what she had to do, and that you would when the opportunity came. Or something like that.”

Catia sat down heavily in a chair, muttering in horrified Greek. “I told her not to do it,” she murmured, rising and pacing back and forth.

“What?” Hiccup pried. “Told her not to do what?”

“She could kill herself-”

“Okay, what is going on?”

“Where is she?! We need to find her!”

“I don’t know!”

“Hiccup, you don’t understand, but I need your help. Where would Astrid most likely be?”

“Her house, probably. But I still-”

“I’ll explain later! Let’s go!” She rushed out of the Great Hall, shouting a few instructions to Fishlegs and the others.

The two ran through the empty streets, Hiccup trying to gain answers to his many questions. Catia hardly responded, saying there wasn’t time. They rushed into the Hofferson house, frantically calling for Astrid.

Confused, but realizing the situation was desperate, Hiccup ran up the stairs to Astrid’s bedroom to look for her. The door to her bedroom was shut. Hiccup pounded on it calling her name, and hearing no reply, he turned to leave. He stopped suddenly, hearing Stormfly squawking nervously inside. He rammed the door open and stepped into the room, sucking in a horrified gasp.

Astrid was in the room, passed out on the floor and slumped against her bed. She had a bloody knife in one hand, and the other was sitting in a bucket of blood. But most terrifying of all; she looked _dead_.


	3. Chapter 3

“Catia!” he shouted, “I found her!” He ran over to Astrid and dropped to his knees, unsure of what to do. His eyes widened at the sight of the blood in the bucket, and how much there was. Her left hand was resting limply in the bucket, blood gushing from a gash in her wrist.

Knowing that the blood needed to be stopped, he pulled off the belt from around his waist and fastened it just below her shoulder, pulling it as tight as he could. He needed help. “Catia!”

Catia suddenly rushed into the room, dropping to her knees next to her friends. She grabbed Astrid’s good hand and felt around on her wrist for a pulse. Finding none, she moved to feel her neck. The small movement was almost imperceptible, but present.

“Get her on the bed,” she commanded, trying to sound calm. “And start a fire. We can’t afford to let her get cold.”

She jumped up and dug around in the few draws and baskets, searching for a needle and thread. Finding nothing, she frantically ran down the stairs to look there. She finally located a sowing basket, and grabbed it, knowing she didn’t have to time to dig through it. She ran back up the stairs, snatching a roll of bandages off a nearby shelf on her way.

She entered the room upstairs, dumping the things in her hands on the desk in the corner. “I need water and some rags,” she instructed, digging through the basket for a needle. Hiccup nodded, his hands visibly shaking as he hurried out of the room. He was obviously scared, and in all honesty she was as well, but fear was utterly useless in these situations, so she tried to ignore it.

She finally found a needle and threaded it, just as Hiccup was returning with the water and rags. They rushed over to Astrid, and Catia was able to slow the blood flow with the cloth. She staunched the wound by stitching it closed, washing off the leftover blood. She wrapped the bandages around Astrid’s wrist, and finally waited for a moment to make sure the blood had stopped. They couldn’t risk Astrid bleeding anymore.

“Can you please explain to me what is happening?” Hiccup asked finally, his voice cracking a little and his hands still shaking.

Catia sighed and sat down in the desk chair. “There is a cure,” she said simply.

“What?!”

“To cure this version, blood with immunity to the Scourge can be used to replace the saliva. Astrid is the only one with that immunity. I told her not to do it because it was so dangerous to lose that much blood.”

“How do you know it even works?”

“Because we used it before,” Catia replied softly.

“When?!”

Catia glanced away. She and Astrid had decided that they wouldn’t tell him he had been sick with the Scourge, but now it seemed that she must. “We used it to cure you.”

“Me?”

“When we found you in the woods, you were sick with the Scourge. There was Buffalord saliva on the arrow. Astrid didn’t want us to tell you about it because she was afraid you would try to figure out how it was caused and end up getting yourself into more trouble or think you get anyone sick.”

Hiccup stared at her. “You mean to say that people are dying because you didn’t want and Astrid didn’t want me to know that I had been sick?!” His eyes flashed in anger, finding it hard to believe what Catia and Astrid had done.

“No-”

“Someone died, Catia! I don’t think you understand how-”

“No, you don’t understand!” Catia argued back. “This has nothing to do with you! The reason I didn’t want to use her blood is because it could kill her!” Catia knew that her temper had gotten out of control, but apparently Hiccup didn’t realize the danger of the situation. “Hiccup,” she continued, trying to calm down. “We are lucky to have found Astrid alive. The amount of blood she lost…I’ve known that to kill men like your father. She is more likely to die than anyone in that Hall.”

Hiccup stood, horrified, Catia’s words slowly sinking in. “How much more likely?” He asked quietly.

“It’s very, very, very unlikely that she will survive,” she said sadly. “There’s nothing more I can do until she wakes up.”

Hiccup nodded, swallowing thickly. “Can I stay with her?”

“That would probably be best,” Catia decided. “Keep her warm, as warm as you can. If she does wake up, try and get food and water in her, but not too much. Can you cook?”

“Enough to make something for her.”

“Good. I guess I should start on the cure.” She grabbed the bucket and started to leave. “Hiccup, I don’t want to be a doom speaker, but it is almost impossible for her to survive this. I just want to make sure you know that.”

He nodded again, turning his gaze on Astrid. She was so pale. It seemed impossible for her to even be alive. But she was still breathing, and as long as she didn’t stop, there was still hope.

. . .

Catia dumped the bucket of blood into a large pot preparing to boil it down. She hung the pot over the fire, and left it to simmer while she cut up the Perondis to add to the mixture.

Fishlegs approached, asking what she was doing. She shortly explained and asked him to find the sickest who needed the cure first, and he left and did so.

Catia was finishing up the mixture when the twins walked in, announcing that they had found someone else who was infected.

“Who?” Catia asked, wondering who was actually left to get sick.

“This bucket of water,” Ruffnut replied seriously, holding up the supposed infected water. “We tested it with your blueberry stuff.”

“You wasted it on a bucket of water?!” Catia shouted, snatching the small tool from Tuffnut. “Water can’t get sick!”

“Aren’t you going to give it a cure?” Tuffnut asked, actually looking like he meant it.

“No! We will hardly have enough for all the people! Now go and help Fishlegs and Snotlout before you start testing rocks for infection!”

Ruffnut set the water down and left Tuffnut following behind, mumbling about "healthcare these days" and "equal rights."

But as Catia turned back to finish the cure, she noticed the coloring of the water it the bucket. Though still clear, the blackish liquid seemed a tad strange. Obviously, the water couldn't be sick, but perhaps the twins were on to something.

She glanced around the kitchen, spotting another bucket of water in the corner. She grabbed a cup and filled it with the untouched water, setting it on the table beside her. She let a few drops of liquid fall from her little vial and watched as the water slowly faded to black.

She repeated the process several times, using different water each time.

“I have a list,” Fishlegs said from behind her suddenly. “But we need to give this stuff to Gustav, and quick.”

“Of course,” Catia replied absentmindedly. “Fishlegs, do you know where this water came from?”

“The well, probably,” Fishlegs replied. “But really, we need to give this to Gustav. He doesn’t have much more time, Catia.”

“Oh, yes,” Catia said, suddenly drawn out of her brainstorming trance. “Help me.” She showed Fishlegs how to measure out the cure, and she left to start administering it, Gustav being the first to receive it. Soon everyone had been given the lifesaving antidote, and Catia could already see improvements in those less ill.

She immediately grabbed her testing tool and a bucket, running for the village well. She drew up some water and dropped in the blueberry substance. As it did every other time, the water slowly faded to black.

“It’s the well water,” she whispered to herself. “That’s what made everyone sick!”

. . .

Astrid lay on her bed, her chest laboriously heaving up and down. The unnatural movement was somewhat eerie; it seemed the only thing that made her living rather than dead. She never moved, never made a sound.

With the help of Stormfly and Toothless, Hiccup had pushed her bed closer to the fire, where the heat was sure to reach her. But even still, her body refused to warm, and her blue lips and ashen face only seemed to deepen. Two days she had been like this—cold, still, and all but dead.

He and Catia had traded places for a few hours so that he could care for his father, but while he was stable and slowly recovering, Astrid was steadily growing worse. The inkling of hope they had clutched so tightly to was slowly fading away with her. Catia was beginning to think that it would be best for her to not survive, having gone so long without food or water and living with so little blood.

No one at this point, not even Hiccup, believed that she could survive anyway. Everyone of course wanted her to be alright, but knew better than to give themselves false hope.

So Hiccup sat in a chair beside her bed, staring at the fire that burned in the hearth. The flames danced around, fighting with each other and devouring the log that he had placed there minutes before. The room was so hot, yet Astrid was still ice cold.

He groaned out of despair and buried his face in his hands, trying to rub away the tiredness. He sat for a while, contemplating what he should do next. He hated this feeling of helplessness more than anything. He didn’t mind failure so much, because in order to fail, one has to first try. He didn’t mind being wrong, because again, he had tried. But now, now there was nothing to try. There was nothing that could help.

He glanced back at Astrid. His face lit up as he saw that her eyes were open, and she stared blankly at the ceiling. She hadn’t moved at all, but simply being conscious was an improvement. He jumped up and sat down beside her, trying to be as gentle as he could.

“Astrid, can you hear me?” he asked softly, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Her tired gaze slowly focused on him. “Hiccup?”

He smiled. She still recognized him, even though memory was one of the many things Catia had mentioned might be affected by the injury. “Yeah, it’s me. Are you okay?”

“Been better,” she whispered hoarsely, still remaining as pale and tired as ever.

“Do you think you can eat?”

“Maybe.”

Hiccup eagerly took her answer as a yes and gently propped her up in bed, finding her to be so weak she couldn’t hold her head up. He dished up the broth Catia had made earlier, only a little. He had to feed her, supporting her head with a hand around the back of her neck.

She only managed to consume about half the food before she was utterly exhausted and Hiccup reluctantly set the bowl aside. But there was hope now. She was awake and had eaten. There was hope.

He wished Catia would come back, she would know what more to do. Astrid had closed her eyes again, but in sleep, it appeared. He brushed the hair out of her face, mostly so he could see her more clearly in case she was worsening.

“Hiccup?” she whispered, so softly he could hardly even hear her.

“Yeah, Astrid?” She was still awake. He assumed that was good.

“Do you remember how…when I was sick…” she feebly tried to talk, but she was simply too weak.

“Do I remember what?”

“How you…how you held me?”

“Yes.”

“Hold me…now. Please.”

Confused, but willing to do so, Hiccup moved around to sit next to her leaned back against the pile of pillows. He tenderly gathered her into his chest, realizing that what she truly wanted was warmth. Her body was so cold.

She rested her head on his chest, her thin blue lips pursed in a stressed expression. Hiccup ran his fingers through her hair, trying to ease her tense position, and briefly felt how clammy and cold her forehead was.

“Keep going,” she whispered, even softer than before.

He smiled, glad that she enjoyed his touch, and continued, slowly undoing her braid with his finger. Astrid sighed, and drew in a straggly breathe to counter it. Her eyes opened staring blankly at his chest. Her left arm was cradled between the two of them, but she weakly pulled her right arm out from underneath her. It took her a moment to catch her breath, but as she did, she limply reached out and began to trace his jaw with her fingers.

Even more confused, but allowing her to do whatever it was she was doing, he watched her intently. He wanted to ask her what she was doing, but didn’t want her to waste strength with a reply. She continued running her fingers over his face, as if trying to memorize his every feature.

Her hand dropped and her eyes closed again, her chest heaving up and down in the attempt to breathe. “Hiccup,” she gasped quietly, “Can you…can you kiss me?”

It was a strange request. A kiss? He was willing to do it, but wanted to know why she would ask for a kiss. However he was not about to pass up the opportunity, and placed a soft kiss on her head.

Astrid smiled slightly, but within moments, it was gone. She drew her hands up to her chest, weakly trying to massage her fingers. Hiccup took her hands in his, nearly gasping at how cold they were. Her entire body felt as though she were an ice cube. Her breathing was shallow, and it seemed harder for her to draw it in. Her skin was white and clammy.

Worry slowly began to knot in Hiccup’s stomach. This didn’t seem right. She was cold, too cold. She was weak, but not naturally so. It was an unexplainable feeling that had settled in his gut, but he knew the sense of dread had to have been caused by something.

Astrid whimpered as she dragged in another breath, and released it, slow and dolefully. Hiccup waited for her to take another breath, but she didn’t move. His heart started to pound as her watched her motionless form, willing her to take another breath. His own breath quickened, a nervous hand of fear clamping around his heart.

“Astrid?” he whispered, shaking her a little. “Astrid!”

She still didn’t move.

“Astrid!” He sat up in the bed, hysteria starting to take over. She had to take a breath. She had to. He glanced around the room, searching for some means of help. Catia! Catia was going to check on Astrid soon! She couldn’t be too far away. “Catia!” he shouted frantically. “Catia!”

The feeling of helplessness had returned as he desperately tried to stir Astrid. What could he do? There had to be something, anything. Where, oh where, was Catia when he needed her?

Warmth. Catia had made it very clear that she couldn’t get too cold, as her body didn’t have enough blood to regulate temperature properly. Without hesitation, he picked up Astrid’s cold, limp body and carried her around the bed and set her down directly next to the fire.

He grabbed a fur off the bed and draped it over Astrid to keep her from getting burned, then dropped to the floor beside her. She still hadn’t taken a breath. He rested his ear on her chest—only a few faint sounds, and he couldn’t even tell if it was a heartbeat.

But if she didn’t get air soon, her heart would give out for certain. “Please, Astrid,” he pleaded quietly, vigorously rubbing her arms to rouse her. “Just one breath. Just one.”

She didn’t respond.

Realizing he had no other choice, he opened her mouth and sealed his lips around hers, forcing air into her empty lungs. Her chest lowered on its own accord, but she didn’t inhale on her own. He continued the process, pausing every few breaths to see if she had improved.

But as the minutes dragged by like days, he realized that she had given him warning. She had known she was—dare he even think it—dying. She had wanted him to hold her, to kiss, to rub her hair, because she knew she was dying. She had come to talk to him on the docks because she knew she was going to die. She had tried to memorize his every feature, because she might never see him again. He stopped abruptly as that knowledge sunk in.

As he sat in the shock, kneeling beside Astrid’s likely lifeless body, he slowly began to understand the situation. She had willingly given up her life so that so many others could survive. But that sacrifice also meant that she was no longer with him.

Tears started to prick his eyes as he stared at her unmoving form. Stunned and heartbroken, he gently gathered her into his lap, buried his face in her hair, and cried.

The two remained in front of the fire for some time, Hiccup tearfully holding Astrid and rocking her back and forth, mostly to sooth his own sorrow. She was gone, and so was a piece of him. She was more than a friend to him, far more, but he had never worked up the courage to tell her. He had never told her how beautiful she was to him, or how much her friendship meant, or that there was no way he could go on without her.

He had never told her how much he had suffered when they thought she was dead before. She didn’t know that how much he had cried for her, and now she never would.

He shifted her around in his lap to press his forehead against hers, his hot tears plopping down onto her pale cheeks. He wasn’t even sure why it hurt so bad; the only reason he could think of was that he couldn’t imagine life without her. He loved her, not necessarily in a romantic way, though he did, but as a companion.

Brushing the hair out of her face, he planted a kiss on her lips, lingering as he knew it was his last few moments on earth with her. He pulled away and pulled her closer, tears still streaming down his face. It was his fault she was gone. If only he had been able to do more, or had the sense to run and find Catia before it was too late, perhaps she would still be here now.

He had thought it hard to lose her before, but that could hardly compare with his current anguish. She had died in his arms. His best friend, limply draped in his lap, cold and lifeless. It was a surreal and forlorn realization. Minutes passed like hours, growing longer and simply harder to bear.

“I love you, Astrid,” he whispered tearfully, knowing that the precious moments with her were almost gone. “I always have…and I always will. I could never, ever, love anyone else the way I love you. I just wish…I wish I had the chance to tell you.”

With a quiet sob, he squeezed her as tightly as he could, as though trying to keep her from slipping away. As he gently relaxed his grip, she let out a tiny, almost silent breath.

Tears still streaming down his face, he shifted her so he could see her face, trying to decipher whether his mind was tricking him. Was he so heartbroken that he imagined her breathing?

But it was not his imagination, for she drew a soft, relaxed breath and slowly opened her eyes.

“Hiccup,” she started quietly, concern filling her tired eyes. “Why are you crying?”

Hiccup gave a joyful cry and pulled her closer, kissing her repeatedly even though he was still crying harder than anyone his age should. “I thought I lost you,” he choked out, hugging her so tight she probably couldn’t breathe.

“What did I miss?” Astrid went on, obviously confused. “Why would you lose me?”

“You stopped breathing. I thought you were dead.”

“I don’t remember any of that,” she murmured, trying to recall it. “I just…I was cold, and then everything went dark. And then you were crying.”

Hiccup laughed through his tears, amused by her innocent description of what happened. “Stop scaring me, will you? I thought you were dead.” He smiled and ran his fingers through her silky hair, earning a faint smile from her as well.

“I didn’t mean too,” she replied softly, as though she were actually ashamed, and Hiccup realized she wasn’t enough herself yet to take a joke.

“I know you didn’t,” he replied, still crying from pure happiness. “I just couldn’t handle the thought of losing you.”

“Please stop crying,” she whispered, shakily reaching out to brush the tears off his cheeks. “You’re going to make me cry.”

“I’ll try,” he said, taking in a deep breath to calm himself. He wasn’t sure how many more episodes of her nearly dying he could take. “I don’t want you to cry.” His pressed another kiss to her lips, warming them with the action.

“I only asked for one kiss,” Astrid told him, her eyes round. “But I guess more is okay.”

“Good,” he told her, finally getting a hold of himself. “I like kissing you.”

She smiled, and felt herself blushing, but her skin was so pale it could hardly be seen. He kissed her again, and although she was too weak to kiss back, she moved with him as best she could.

He pulled suddenly as someone cleared their throat behind the two. They glanced up to see Catia standing in the doorway, struggling to keep back a smile. “I knew it,” she giggled, almost ready to burst with laughter.

“Oh, shut up,” Hiccup growled, clearly embarrassed. “Can’t you see you’re interrupting something?”

“I’m sure,” Catia said, finally straight-faced again. “Didn’t I tell you to come and get me when Astrid woke up?”

“He thought I died,” Astrid put in quickly, as if trying to excuse his mistake.

Catia raised an eyebrow, eyeing the two of them. She motioned for Hiccup to move Astrid back to her bed not bothering to ask why she was on the floor. She examined her friend and was shocked to find that Astrid was almost perfectly fine, minus that she was too weak to stand, of course.

She was given some more food and water, but was still too shaky to feed herself. Hiccup helped her eat while Catia explained that Berk’s well had somehow been polluted with Buffalord saliva, and even though the water diluted it some, it eventually infected those who drank it.

“I can only imagine how it got there,” Hiccup said, bewildered, and guided a cup of water to Astrid’s lips. “There aren’t any Buffalord around for miles!”

“And why would it be in the well water?” Astrid added, or at least tried to, as her mouth was full of bread.

“Exactly,” Catia replied, shaking her head. “This didn’t just happen. Something, or someone, caused it, and I highly doubt they expected it to be curable. I need to speak with Stoick about this; it’s not a light matter.

“How is my dad?” Hiccup asked, his attention finally drifting from Astrid.

“Much better,” Catia smiled, directing it somewhat at Astrid, acknowledging her selfless action. “He was up and trying to get around this morning. He was asking for you earlier.”

“Did you tell him where I was?”

“Oh, yes,” Catia answered, her mischievous smile returning. “He was rather amused. He said you should stop pretending like you aren’t hopelessly in love and quite wasting time. I quote.”

Astrid giggled as his cheeks turned red, and he stared at the floor, though he was smiling.

“If I leave the two of you alone, do you think you can keep out of trouble?” she fixed a playful glare on Hiccup.

“Yes, just go!” he shouted in embarrassment, waving her out the door. She scampered out, laughing with glee.

It wasn’t but a minute later that she came barreling back into the room, her face shining with excitement. “Hiccup! Astrid! Hurry, you’ve got to see this!”

Curious, Hiccup scooped Astrid up off her bed, Catia arranging a fur around her to keep her warm, and motioned them down the stairs to the door. Grinning from ear to ear, she threw the door open and all but pushed them out onto the front steps.

They were greeted with a loud cheer, from a crowd that had gathered to show appreciation to Astrid. Her eyes were wide, as was her mouth, but it was clear she was grateful for their thanks. Stoick made his way up beside them.

“Astrid Hofferson,” he began, loud enough for everyone to hear. “We are here, as you may have realized, to show you our thanks. Everyone in the village, including myself, owes you their lives. Your altruistic and heroic deed has made it possible for us to be here now. We understand that this could have cost your own life, but that fact did not deter you. So for your sacrifice, bravery, and noble act, I present you with this medal of honor.”

Astrid smiled proudly as Stoick clumsily placed the medal around her neck, which wasn’t an easy task since she was being held. She turned to the crowd, and as loudly as she could, addressed them. “I guess this is where I’m supposed to say something,” she started, earning a chuckle from her audience. “But if you don’t mind, I’ll save it for another time. I’m having enough trouble holding my head up, let alone giving a speech.”

“Of course,” Stoick smiled, “I’m not fully recovered either. Go and get some rest, lass.”

Astrid smiled her thanks as Hiccup carried her back inside, but he stopped suddenly.

“Wait, Hittup, wait!” Maggie came running through the crowd, Lindi struggling to keep her back. The little girl ran up on the steps, and motioned for Hiccup to lower Astrid enough for her to see.

He dropped to one knee, which wasn’t at all easy, but managed not to jostle Astrid too much.

“Dees are for you,” Maggie told Astrid proudly, handing her a cluster of flowers. Astrid smiled as she took them, too weak to reply, but thankful nonetheless. “Thank you, Astwid.” Maggie threw her arms around Astrid’s neck, hugging her out of pure gratitude.

A quiet “aww” murmured through the crowd, and Maggie scampered away, leaving Astrid happier than she ever thought she could be. Not because she had been thanked and honored by her tribe, but because she had been able to help in a way that no one else could.

“They’re right, you know,” Hiccup told her, heading for the stair case. “You really did-”

“Shh!” Catia hushed him urgently, pointing to Astrid.

He glanced down at her, smiling as he realized she was already fast asleep, her head on his chest, earning some well deserved, peaceful rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is everyone! Get Well Soon! Tell me what you think about it in the comments. Good, bad, I don't care. I love hearing from my readers.
> 
> Up next is "The Element of Surprise" and I think you're going to like it! 
> 
> Thanks for reading (as always)!
> 
> ~Spinofflady


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